


The Definition of Insanity

by scarletmanuka



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dodged a bullet, M/M, Reconciliation, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.





	

    Greg looked across the table at his estranged wife and, not for the first time tonight, wondered if this was really a good idea. He’d left her when he’d first found out about her cheating, and had given her a second go, only to have Sherlock declare her sleeping with the PE teacher at the school where she worked. He’d sworn then to never let her get her hooks into him again, and yet here he was. Diane had called, tearful and sounding full of remorse, and he’d caved and agreed to dinner at one of the fancier restaurants in town.

The only excuse he had was that he was so bloody lonely. He’d not seen anyone since they’d split and he definitely missed having someone in his life. His work took up a large portion of his time, and he would be the first to admit that his spouse had been the first to suffer those time restraints. But the time he did have to himself now would benefit from a warm body at his side and companionable conversation. They’d both had their faults, but he and Diane had always been able to have a laugh together and enjoy their time in the bedroom. The trust issue aside, she wasn’t the _worst_ person he could be having dinner with.

Of course, she wasn’t his first choice by a long shot. A certain government official with the eloquent speech and smart suits would have been his most definite first choice. It was a pity that Mycroft Holmes was even more opposed to human interaction than his brother. Over the years they’d come to have what could definitely be described as a friendship, and Greg had been harbouring some more-than-platonic feelings since he’d become single. They had the occasional dinner together to discuss Sherlock and his antics, and he was happy to say that their conversation had strayed many a time to more personal matters. But in all that time, Mycroft had never indicated he was in any way, shape, or form looking for a relationship. Greg didn't even know for sure if he was into blokes. His feelings for the elegant man appeared to be unrequited and it was time he stopped pining and moved on.

“Are you still with me, Greg?” Diane asked, a smirk on her lips as she waved a hand in front of his face.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Zoned out a bit there,” he apologised. He lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a sip.

“You always did have a habit of getting lost in your thoughts.”

“Nothing’s changed there.”

She gave him an appreciative look. “Doesn’t look like much has changed at all. You’re looking great.”

“Oh, thanks.” He’d had a busy day at work and had come straight from the station and hadn’t changed so was wearing the same suit he’d dressed in that morning. He’d not been called to any crime scenes and the only place he’d been, other than the yard, was St Bart’s. He’d met Sherlock at the lab there to hear about a theory involving the decay rate of flesh when exposed to a certain bacteria found in the Thames which should disprove the alibi of one of the men they had in custody. He’d - thankfully - avoided the small explosion that had occurred shortly after his arrival, and it was John who had walked out covered in goopy cow flesh and river water. There was something to be said for small mercies. Despite spending her day in a classroom with twenty grubby kids, Diane was a fussy sort and wouldn’t have been pleased if he’d shown up covered in Sherlock’s experiment. “You’re looking well, too.”

She beamed at the compliment. “Look, Greg, I’m going to cut to the chase. I know I hurt you, and you have no reason to want me back. But I’ve missed you. I’ve had some time to reflect on what we had and how good we were for each other. I’d really like to be able to see if we can get that back.” She reached across the table and took his hand. He resisted the urge to jerk away from her touch. His mind was telling him to run as fast as he could, but his heart, and yes, his cock, were thinking it might be worth hearing her out. “Please tell me we have a chance?”

Why the fuck could he never resist her when she gave him those puppy dog eyes? He was going to regret this, he knew, but it had been so long since he’d had any form of affection, and it wasn’t looking likely that his dream man was going to fall into his arms anytime soon. Seeing how things panned out couldn’t hurt, could it? Not that he was going to let her think he was eager to try again. If anything happened, it _would_ be on his terms. “I’m not...opposed to the idea,” he told her, only slightly hesitantly. “How about we just see how dinner goes? One step at a time?”

She smiled and nodded. “That sounds great. So, what are you thinking of getting?”

They looked at the menus and placed their orders and then chatted as they waited for their food to arrive. The conversation was stilted at first but thanks to a bottle or two of wine, soon it began to flow like it always had, and it wasn’t long before they were laughing over the antics of one of Diane’s cousins.

“Detective Inspector - fancy seeing you here.”

Greg looked up and his eyes widened as he took in the immaculately suited presence of the older Holmes brother. “Oh, hi. Wow, yeah, didn't expect to see you out and about on the town on a Friday night.”

Mycroft gave a thin smile. “Unfortunately there was a certain matter I had to attend to and it required a more social touch than a meeting at my office.”

“You had to dazzle them with your fancy words over a steak, eh?”

“I doubt very much that they would refer to it as _dazzling_.”

Greg grinned impishly. “Of course they wouldn’t - sore losers and all.”

Mycroft smiled again, broader this time and it was one that Greg rarely saw, but he’d never seen the man give it to anyone else but him. “I came away very much the victor.” His eyes cut to Diane. “Apologies, I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Oh, yeah, this is my ex - Diane. Diane, this is Mycroft Holmes.”

Greg noticed the slight tightening of the eyes as Mycroft nodded in greeting to Diane, and the way his smile appeared forced. He wasn’t as observant as either of the Holmes brothers, but there was a reason he was a bloody good detective. He could tell that there was something on Mycroft’s mind.

“Your brother is Sherlock, yeah?” Diane asked.

“As much as it occasionally pains me to admit to the familial ties, indeed he is.”

“I remember Greg helping him out of a spot of trouble or two - and a withdrawal or three.” Her tone wasn’t exactly cordial. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as his brother.”

“What can I say? The apple can fall far from the tree. The Detective Inspector has been a great assistance over the years with my brother and I can never repay him in full for all he has done. Truly, if it weren’t for his dedication and persistence in helping Sherlock overcome his more debilitating weaknesses, I feared I would have seen an early grave.” He turned his eyes back to Greg. “I will excuse myself to the bar now as it appears I have interrupted a rather romantic evening. Forgive the intrusion. I do hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Nice to meet you,” Diane said, though her tone said otherwise.

“I’ll see you around?” Greg asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice.

“Undoubtedly,” Mycroft replied before making his way across the restaurant.

“Wow. What a creep,” Diane muttered once they were alone.

“What? No, he’s not!” Greg narrowed his eyes at her. “Mycroft is a top bloke.”

She snorted. “Uh huh, sure he is. Honestly, just _look_ at him. He’s the perfect example of one of those slimy politicians who always think they know better than everyone else and use others to get where they’re going. Just like how he used you when he couldn’t be bothered being there for his own brother.”

“You’re wrong. Mycroft really cares about Sherlock, but his little brother has never been very accepting of his help. I did what I could because I’m one of the few people Sherlock trusts, and I wanted to help.”

“Yeah, well, I still think he’s a creep. But enough about him - are we getting dessert? Or do you wanna skip that here and maybe head back to your place for some different sweets?”

“Um, yeah, dessert sounds good. Why don't you have a look at the menu and pick something out. I’m just going to run to the loo. Be back soon.” He left her at the table and made his way across the room, but instead of heading for the toilets, he made his way into the bar area. Mycroft was sitting at the bar, a whiskey in his hand, and he didn't seem at all surprised when Greg took a seat on the stool next to him.

“Detective Inspector.”

“I do have a first name, and I’m pretty sure you know what it is.”

Mycroft smiled into his drink. “Apologies. _Gregory_.”

“Better. So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what you know, or deduced, or figured out, or whatever the hell it was that made you look at Diane like she’s the scum of the earth.”

“Ah, you noticed that. I wouldn’t have thought it would be so obvious.”

“I’ve spent enough time looking at you to know when you’re not happy.” Greg winced at his slip of the tongue. He hadn’t meant it to come out like that.

“I apologise if I offended you,” Mycroft offered, choosing not to comment.

“The only offense I’ll take is if you don’t share with me what you know.”

Mycroft avoided his gaze and looked down into his glass. “I fear it may be upsetting for you.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“But what if I cannot?”

Greg was shocked by the pained expression he saw flit across Mycroft’s face. “What do you mean?” He reached out and touched a finger to a slender wrist. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

The politician swallowed hard. “I do not find the prospect of upsetting you to be a situation I would like to find myself in. You are a good man, Gregory, and I would prefer to see you kept from harm, especially from my doing.”

“I’d rather you tell me the truth, even if it’s something I don’t want to hear. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it’s something to do with Diane not being honest about her current situation?”

“Quite. I am sorry to be the one to advise you, Gregory, but Diane is engaged in a romantic entanglement with a gentleman who regularly works away. He is currently in Spain, attending to business.”

“Ah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but well, there you have it, I’ve surprised myself.”

“Only because you have strong morals and integrity and always see the good in others.”

“You mean I’m a lonely, naive idiot.”

“You are...lonely?”

He couldn’t recognise the look in Mycroft’s eyes. “Yeah, I am. Not ashamed to admit it. I guess I probably knew deep down that Diane wouldn’t have changed, but I suppose being used by her was better than pining for something that I can’t have.”

“May I be so bold as to enquire as to what it is that you covet yet fear you will not possess?”

Greg reached across and picked up Mycroft’s glass and downed the amber liquid. One of Mycroft’s eyebrows raised in a delicate arch but he made no comment, just signalled to the bartender for another two drinks. “You can ask but it’ll depend on how drunk I get as to whether I answer or not.”

“It is so terrible a secret?”

Their new drinks were placed in front of them and Greg took a healthy gulp of his. “Terrible? No, not terrible at all. In fact he’s amazing. One of those rare people who you just know will always have your best interests at heart, and will always have your back.”

Mycroft put his glass down with shaky hands. “He?”

“Don’t act surprised. I’m sure you had me figured out the minute you saw me.”

“Seeing the indications that someone is bisexual does not necessarily mean that that individual has recognised it in themselves.”

Greg shrugged. “I recognised it several times before I got married.”

“And this...gentleman...why do you feel he would not reciprocate your affections?”

He sighed and then swallowed down the rest of his whiskey. On top of the several glasses of wine he’d already had, he was definitely on his way to being tipsy. “Firstly, I don’t even know if he swings that way. Secondly, he’s so far out of my league that we’re playing different sports. He’s not only gorgeous, but powerful, and kind, and generous, and funny, and caring. And he looks damn good in a suit.”

“He sounds a perfect match for you.”

“Yeah, he does.” He turned his head when he heard his name being called.

“Greg! What the hell? Where have you been?” Diane was furious and her glare darted between the two of them.

He swung around on the stool to face her and swayed slightly, realising that maybe he was closer to being drunk than tipsy. A hand on his back steadied him and he leaned back against it. “Ah, Diane! Glad you came over cos I have something to tell you.”

“Why don’t you come back to our table and you can tell me there?”

“No, I think it best if I do it here, that way I can get back to chatting to Mycroft.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You do realise it’s not polite to abandon your date, right?”

“Probably just as polite as trying to get in my pants while your lover is in Spain.” Her eyes went wide and he twisted around to look at Mycroft, and felt the younger man’s arm slip around his waist to steady him even further. “You’re educated in such matters, aren’t you? Etiquette and such. Does that sound polite to you?”

“It most definitely does not.”

“See, not polite at all,” he told his ex. “So, really, what I mean to say is - fuck off, Diane.”

She opened her mouth as if to retort but obviously decided she’d already lost the fight. “Very well. Goodbye, Greg.”

“Good riddance, Diane.” She stormed off and Greg turned back to the bar, sinking his head down into his hands. “Well, that went well.” Mycroft’s arm remained around his waist and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of hope at the contact. “Sorry to drag you into it.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. As I said earlier, it pains me to be the one to have brought it to your attention.”

“Because you don’t want to hurt me.”

“Precisely.”

“You act like you don’t care, Mycroft, but you do. I’ve heard you spout to Sherlock time and time again that caring is not an advantage, but you can’t fool me. You _do_ care.”

“Be that as it may, I fail to see the advantages in it.”

“Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough.”

“Is that so? I think perhaps it’s time to look at getting you home, Gregory.” He signalled to the bartender and settled his tab and also the bill for Greg’s table.

“You didn't have to do that,” Greg told him as he was helped down from the stool.

“But I wanted to.”

“See, you’re generous as well.” They made their way outside, Mycroft keeping a hand on the small of Greg’s back to help steady him. A black car was waiting at the curb and the DI was helped inside. “I promise I’ll try not to barf all through your lovely car.”

“Fear not, Gregory. My regular driver lost a wager with me the other day and is now obliged to provide a service for me of a nature most unpleasant. Cleaning up the contents of your stomach would certainly meet those requirements.”

Greg laughed. “See, you’re funny.” He ran his eyes over the man appreciatively. “Look good in a suit, too.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened in surprise. “Gregory...are you implying what I think you are?”

“Only just figuring out now that you match my description?”  

“Surely someone of your high calibre would never deem to be interested in one such as I?”

“I do deem. I deem very much.”

“I see.”

Greg closed his eyes and lay his head back against the seat. “And now comes the part where you tell me that you’re not interested in men, or if you are, not in me and then politely ask that we never speak of this ag-” His words were cut off by lips on his and his eyes flew open.

Mycroft leaned back after their chaste kiss but touched one finger to Greg’s cheek. “I am very interested in you, Gregory. I think it wise though that we table this discussion for tonight and continue it tomorrow. Perhaps over dinner?”

“Meaning I’m drunk and you don’t want to take advantage?”

“Exactly.” The car pulled up outside of Greg’s building and they shared a long look. “So, will you join me for dinner tomorrow?”

“I’d love that.” He couldn’t help himself and leaned forward to press another kiss to Mycroft’s lips.

“You’re not making it easy for me to be a gentleman,” Mycroft murmured.

Greg laughed. “I just wanted to say thanks for keeping me from making a huge mistake tonight. See you tomorrow.”

“Until then, Gregory.”

He climbed out of the car and waved once he reached the door of his building, watching as the car drove off. On somewhat unsteady feet he climbed the stairs to his flat and made his way inside. He looked around his small living area and found himself grinning. He had a date tomorrow with Mycroft Holmes! Things were definitely starting to look up.

**Author's Note:**

> This was first attempt at Mystrade. Hope you liked it!


End file.
